


i give you half an hour (and the rest of my life)

by parttimehuman



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles, So Much Softness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 16:16:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20361427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parttimehuman/pseuds/parttimehuman
Summary: Kira has this habit of falling asleep on the couch in the living room she shares with Malia. No matter how much Malia teases her for it, she doesn't actually mind having to carry her to bed, especially not when Kira starts getting cuddly.





	i give you half an hour (and the rest of my life)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThiamHarpy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThiamHarpy/gifts).

> As always, this is a piece written for fun, it's neither edited nor proof-read nor beta'd in any way. I do not care about plotholes, I do not want to know about the canon details I'm ignoring. Just enjoy the fluff, okay?

"Half an hour," Malia says dryly before taking another bite of her sandwich. Strictly speaking it's Kira's sandwich, but Malia was hungry again shortly after they'd shared dinner, and Kira is genuinely unable to deny her anything.

"What?" Kira asks. Half an hour? Did she miss something because she was daydreaming about her best friend and roommate again? Knowing herself, Kira thinks it's likely, although she tries really hard not to.

"Half an hour," Malia says again, her mouth still full, but that's never stopped her from talking. "That's how long I give you. You'll be asleep on the couch again, just like every night this week."

Kira blushes and tightens the blanket around her shoulders. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she mutters. She isn't  _ that _ bad with making it into her own bed at night, is she?

"Oh yeah?" Malia scoffs. "If you have no idea what I'm talking about, then why did your face just turn into a tomato?"

Kira decides it's best to hide her burning cheeks in the next available pillow until Malia stops looking at her with that amused smirk on her lips. It's not fair that she does this all the time. First of all, it's not Kira's fault that she's tired when she comes home from work at night and that Malia always chooses the kind of tv program that can't be for anything more than calming background noise. And who can blame her if she gets strangely warm and comfortable when the two of them lie on the couch together? The blanket and the pillows there always smell so much like Malia that she wants to bury herself in them and stay wrapped up in the scent of home and belonging forever.

"I don't know why you're hiding, tomato, red looks cute on you," Malia comments, face slowly turning back to the tv screen. "I've always thought that."

God, is she trying to make it better or worse? "You're awful," Kira whispers, meaning the exact opposite, sinking as deep into the cushion as she can. It's not just to lie comfortably while she slowly drifts off, it's also because she needs a good angle to be able to look at Malia through lidded eyes.

These are the only times she allows herself to really do this, to really let her gaze linger as long as she needs to drink the other girl in. For years, they've been living together, sharing lunch breaks and a circle of friends and a dorm room at college and then an apartment with the most magical couch in the world in it, and yet, all that time is never enough to really stop and stare.

When they're like this, the moment is just right. Malia munches on her second dinner and lets out amused nose-exhales from time to time, Kira dreams. She always starts trying to be subtle, so her eyes linger on Malia's boots or the knee-high socks first. Her knees are often bruised or scratched or bloody, proof of how they carry her through life with no fear or hesitation. Then there are muscular, soft looking thighs always visible between the socks and a pair of jeans shorts. In Kira's most shameless fantasies, she leaves marks behind on their insides.

She flicks her eyes up to make sure Malia is still focused on whatever show she's currently obsessed with, then lowers them again. Even now that she's wearing an oversized t-shirt, Kira can make out her the curve of her hips, the thought taking her straight back to that one night in college when Malia tried to teach her how to dance. Kira was clueless and frankly, embarrassed, but only until she closed her eyes and followed the movements of Malia's swinging hips with her own. If life was a movie, that moment would have been their big, romantic, life-changing kiss.

Although she's taken in every detail of Malia's body a hundred times before, Kira never gets tired of it. Again and again and again, she counts the tiny blond hairs on her tanned arms. She watches Malia's chest rising and sinking with every breath, tries to burn the sharp edge that is her collarbone into her memory forever. Every twitch of a muscle is taken note of. Not just tonight, but always, one day after the other, Kira watches bruises bloom and fade, always in absolute awe, always with absolute fascination.

What kills her tonight is the way Malia is wearing her hair. Kira has always liked ponytails on girls and the way they swing and bob as they move, but on Malia she likes it best when the long waves of honey-blond hair are falling over one shoulder in a loose, messy braid, the long bangs framing her face, giving her a softer look. There are enough strands that have escaped the braid for the whole look to stay true to Malia's untamed self, but at the same time, there's a tenderness to her that makes Kira weak.

Whenever she reaches Malia's face, Kira blushes a little more aggressively, ridiculous as it is, but she can't help it. Malia rarely wears any make-up, and god, why would she? She's got gorgeous, light pink lips and a soft glow to her cheeks and big, hazel brown eyes framed in long, dark lashes. While Kira thinks Malia hit the ultimate genetic jackpot, Malia herself doesn't seem to be overly aware of her raw beauty, which of course, makes her even more wonderful.

At some point, like every night they lie on the couch, either their knees touching or a foot against a leg or some other kind of small physical connection existing, Kira has to close her eyes, because if she keeps them open, her thoughts keep running, and if her thoughts keep running, nothing will stop her from taking Malia's face between her hands and just kissing her.

Considering that nothing is happening except the chaos in her own head, Kira's heart is beating far too wildly in her chest. She shouldn't be so easily ruined by something she gets to see and hear and smell and feel every day, but she can't change a damn thing about it. Turning her head away and pressing her nose into one of the pillows, Kira extends her leg until her foot is buried under Malia's thigh. It's not nearly enough, not compared to what she craves so desperately, but to Kira, it's everything, this little bit of domesticity, this unquestioned proximity between the two of them. The unspoken reassurances, the promises of being there, of staying there, of home, of everything good and precious.

Every night, when she gets to this point, Kira falls asleep. Malia teases her about it constantly, but she doesn't know the whole truth, doesn't know about all the nights that Kira has spent struggling with insomnia, doesn't know how many times Kira has cried because after enough sleepless nights, the exhaustion turns into incredible physical pain and the cruelty seems to have no end. On the couch in their home, Kira doesn't know that sort of pain. On the couch in their home, everything is different. It's why it doesn't matter that she doesn't have the courage to confess her feelings to Malia. It's why the risk of losing her in case the feelings aren't mutual is simply too great to ever take it.

*

Half an hour. Malia wasn't wrong. She knew it the moment she saw Kira snuggling up into the cushions with the blanket. Sometimes it takes way longer for her to fall asleep, sometimes it goes even quicker. Today, she came home from work tired, but not completely exhausted. Malia knows her well enough by now to be able to tell exactly how hard her day was when she steps through the door. Just because she isn't sure when it started being this way doesn't mean she'd want it any differently.

For half an hour, she was pretending to be caught up in the show playing on the tv, but now that Kira is peacefully sleeping next to her, she can stop and do what she's been wanting to do all evening; turn to the side until she's looking right at the other girl, carefully sliding her legs underneath Kira's blanket to share the warmth there.

No matter how often she teases Kira about falling asleep on the couch rather than in her own bed, Malia doesn't mean any of it. She has zero complaints about getting to watch her like this; totally relaxed and looking so damn soft, so cozy, so absolutely beautiful. Malia loves the way Kira always hugs one of the pillows against her chest, and she loves the upward twitches of her lips as she dreams. She loves how the silky, shiny black hair falls over the cushion and how the whole entire rest of the world just stops existing whenever this happens.

If she's being honest, Malia doesn't know for how long she's been in love with Kira. She knows she's had a crush since the very first moment, but that's understandable for a teenage girl who sees another teenage girl playing lacrosse on the boys team, right? Malia was drawn to that part of Kira like she was drawn to everything rough and fast and a little rebellious. But there was more there than met the eye, and most of it was so beautifully soft that Malia didn't dare touch it.

Kira was kind where Malia was spiteful, sensitive where Malia was impulsive, tender where Malia was harsh, too good, too pure, too innocent, too lovely, and none of it would have made sense. None of it would have fit. How years later, Kira is exactly everything she needed, everything grounding and good in her life despite their differences, Malia has no idea.

For an hour, they lie there together, legs touching under the blanket. Kira is the one person Malia won't be aggressive with, so he keeps her distance, gives the other girl time, lets her set the pace with which they develop their relationship, but sometimes, when she's weak and can't help herself, she tells herself that it's okay if she carries Kira to bed. She tells herself that she's doing Kira a favor, and that it has nothing to do with the need to hold her or the cute little noises Kira makes when she's being picked up. It's like touching a sleeping cat, Malia thinks. Kitty doesn't really wake, but she starts purring nonetheless.

Every time Kira's head rests against her shoulder, breath catching on her neck, Malia's heart skips a beat or two. Maybe she's even been secretly lifting weights just so she could do this more easily, who can blame her? If you get the chance to hold the most precious thing on earth in your arms you take it. With one arm around Kira's back and one arm under her legs, she takes the sleeping girl down the hallway and into Kira's room. Without turning the light on, she makes her way to the bed, standing in front of it, holding onto her treasure before she finally sets her down.

Malia isn't entirely convinced by herself that it's really necessary to get Kira out of her hoodie, but it feels nice to do it, not because she's undressing her, and not because there's only a tight, white top underneath, but because it feels like taking care of someone, doing something they could as well do on their own, but don't have to, not as long as Malia is there.

Trying not to wake Kira up, Malia pulls the sheets out from underneath her legs and covers her up, tucking her in, stroking the hair out of her face after, lingering just a moment, watching, once again thinking about how happy she'll be on the day she gets to stay.

It's time to go, even if Malia doesn't want to leave Kira alone, ever. She could stay and watch and breathe her in all night, but she wouldn't have an explanation for when they wake up in the same bed in the morning. Carrying Kira to bed so her back won't kill her after a night on the couch? Yeah, that's something that can count as reasonable, but staying?

Of course, because she's awful and inconsequent and in love and weak, Malia stands there right by Kira's side too long thinking about it. Kira turns towards her and a moment later, a leg is slinging around her, because Kira doesn't have pillow to hug now, so she's reaching for the next available thing, which is Malia. Malia, who is entirely too shocked to anything about it before Kira has pulled her on top of herself, nose nuzzling against her neck while she lets out cute little sighs and melts Malia's willpower away.

Fine, Malia thinks, she can probably stay until Kira lets go of her at some point during the night. She doesn't want to wake her up by tearing away from her, after all. So instead, Malia wriggles herself under the sheets and wraps her arms around Kira, nose buried in her hair, lips torn between a smile and a kiss, heart full and happy. Just for a while, she tells herself. Just for a while, they'll have this, and whatever happens in the morning, nobody can take the memory from her.

*

Somehow, waking up feels different this time. It's always the same kind of disorientation at first, that moment of free falling through space and time where nothing is real, but this time, it doesn't feel scary. Kira doesn't feel lost and she doesn't feel like she's under water struggling for air until she finally breaks the surface and recognizes her own bed in her own room. It's way more peaceful than that. It's so much warmer, so much... There's an anchor this time as she floats through the big nothing.

Kira doesn't know what it is at first. It's just a feeling of security, but then it turns into a pair of arms around her and the warm huffs of breath brushing over the skin on her neck. It turns into a whole body, strong and tender and alive and right behind her, plastered along her back, shielding her, protecting her. It's almost as if she's still dreaming, except Kira knows it's real, because she's dreamed about this enough times to be able to tell the difference. She's waking up to Malia spooning her, and that's a thing that's happening, and no other thing that's ever happened has felt better.

There's an alarm set and work waiting to be done, but Kira couldn't care less. She's been waiting too long to be exactly where she is now, she can't give it up just yet. She can't do anything except push herself back against Malia and hold her arms so they stay where they are. She doesn't know how it happened, or how she deserves it, but now she gets to be exactly as close to Malia as she's always wanted to, and she can't bring herself to pulling away. Instead, she turns off all alarms and snuggles closer.

Kira can feel a heart beating evenly against her back and she can't stop smiling because of it. With only the tip of one finger, she starts caressing Malia's arm, starts drawing patterns on the skin, never wanting to stop, never wanting to put even a single inch of distance between them. When exactly Malia wakes up, she doesn't know, she only knows that the arms around her tighten and long legs rub against her own and then, as if sleeping entangled in each other for the whole night wasn't enough, they can't stop pulling the other closer and pushing their bodies together and trying to bury their faces in each other's skin.

No words are spoken, but for every night that Kira has fallen asleep on the couch, there's a deep, content exhale. For every shared memory, there's a soft push of a nose against the other's cheek. For every day they've spent falling deeper and more irrevocably in love, there's a brush of lips against skin. They breathe and they grin and they feel each other's heartbeat, and that's how time goes by, half an hour or god knows how much, nobody's keeping track this time.

The only time they get close to getting out of bed is when Kira sits up as she picks up the phone to call in sick at work, Malia still wrapped around her as she makes up a poor excuse when the truth is, there's no way she's leaving the bed when Malia is finally in it and everything feels just right. After she hangs up, they both start giggling, falling back into the sheets together to spend another couple of hours exactly the same way, making up for all the years they weren't ready yet, as close as two human beings possibly can be.

"I will never try not to fall asleep on the couch again," Kira whispers against Malia's neck, earning a soft chuckle.

"Like you ever have," Malia whispers back into her hair.

It's the truth that Kira hasn't, but more importantly, she now doesn't have to pretend anymore either. Nobody says it, but they both know. They're done pretending once and for all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Obviously, if you enjoyed this fic, that's already all I wanted, but you may still try to put a dumb smile on my face by leaving me kudos/ a comment. Feel free to come talk to me on [tumblr.](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/flyde)


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